Freak The Freak Out
by VexyJeanetteRaven22-6
Summary: Oneshot. Now that all has settled down for the Flashes, they must decide what will happen to Bart Allen. Barry, Jay, Wally, and Iris will decide his fate-and if she has anything to say about it, Bart will remain with Iris, as her adopted son. He will not get to grow up the way he was supposed to, but the future he knew is gone anyway. And what does he think should happen?


"Whatever we do, it has to be soon," Barry said with a quick glance over his shoulder. His blonde hair, messy and unwashed, swung wildly as he looked to a mostly closed door behind him. The man, along with the rest of the group he was talking to, sat around a circular table in the Allen's dining room. The hall leading away was dark, as was the kitchen, but the first bedroom had a light on inside.

The others around the table were Iris, who was extremely pregnant, Wally, with his red hair in a mess and his skin patterned with soot, and Jay, his skin marked with ashes too. The house was quiet, save for the noise of music coming from the bedroom.

"I agree," Jay's voice rumbled like whispery thunder. "Poor kid is starting to forget about his time and soon there's going to be nothing left in his memories."

"And if you think about it, his father and aunt are my little twins," Iris murmured, giving a small look to her round stomach. "To think that he's most likely going to be around here helping us raise them…."

"But what can we do? We can't just have him go back. His future isn't the same anymore, he won't know the time like he used to." Jay argued. "If we leave him here, he forgets. If we send him back, we lose him, he is lost in a world he doesn't know, and he will probably forget anyway."

"We definitely have to let him stay in our time. We're all he's got." Barry confirmed. "But how do we deal with the fact that he's losing all of his memory of everything he knew? How is _he_ supposed to deal with it?"

"We'll help him make new memories," Wally murmured, shattering the rare silence he had dared to bless them with in his exhaustion. "The time he knew is over. And anyway, he didn't like it much. He told me so."

"I just feel so bad for him," Iris murmured. "He's so little and he's already had to suffer so much in his lifetime. I want to make it better for him but I don't know how."

"You called him little," Jay smiled at her. "He's almost fourteen."

"Have you even seen him? He's so small." She countered. "And he's pretty much the only kid around here. I can call him little if I want."

"You treat him like he's yours, though." Wally muttered. "Jay doesn't like it."

"He is mine. Barry and I are his legal guardians, and as far as everyone else knows, he's my son. _I_ like it."

She didn't realize I was listening.

I had some music on to try and distract me, but in all seriousness I was listening to their conversation. I was terrified of the fact that I was slowly forgetting what I once knew as the world, and I needed to know what would happen. Since they could send me back now that the mission was complete, I was terrified. I wanted to stay where I knew they cared. Where Wally was more or less my brother who gave me junk food and let me stay up late with him. Where Iris and Barry cared for me like Mom and Dad used to. Where Jay mentored me like no one had before, actually knowing what it was like to time-travel and leave your life behind.

I continued to listen but let my thoughts bite at me in distraction. I didn't want to eavesdrop, but in my defense the house was quiet and I was only a room away. It was hard not to.

Eventually, I shook it off and dug out my sketchbook. I flipped open pages and found a blank one about a quarter of the way through. I drew a faint silhouette of a person on it. The hair ended up as a messy style, the eyes shut tightly. The mouth was wide open and I colored over it, darker and darker, until all I could think of when I saw it was a scream. I started to write words coming from that void, that shadowy place, like the words being said. I smiled when I read them, thinking of a time before now when no one listened and how I wanted to make an opinion then, but was too afraid to step out of the door and talk.

"Are you listening?" I wrote first. Then, "Is it something I should know?" "Don't hear a word I said," "I tried to talk to you, but you never ever knew," "I'm so sick of it," and "Never listen. You never listen" followed. Then, "If it breaks, does it heal?"

"Keep me in the dark, are you even thinking of me?" I wrote in large letters across one side of the void. Two more phrases followed: "What am I gonna do, I can't get through to you," and "You never listen."

It's too late when I realize I'm just writing the words from the CD player. It's Victoria Justice's _Freak the Freak Out_ and it's a little too loud, in my opinion. I don't dare turn it down, however, because they will notice and know that I'm listening in on them. The house is much too quiet tonight.

I yawned, shading some grey blotches across the sky. They became a storm, and slashes of light pencil turned to pouring rain. The words sliced into the weather like swords, and they touched onto the earth within the picture. To draw that, I shaded evenly across the picture in diagonal lines and then rubbed over it with my thumb in the opposite direction, leaving a messy blur that made it seem almost dreamlike. I was finished.

I put the sketchbook down beside me. I was sitting on my bed, on top of folded blankets of red and white. Red pillows were between me and the silver headboard. A matching dresser and desk stood side-by-side on the wall to my left. To my right, a grey nightstand had a small CD player on it and a square black case. The case was slightly ajar with several plastic cases inside-more CDs. I moved to pick a new one and flipped through them. I had gathered quite a few from Wally and his friends, who had been more than happy to give me a disc on the occasion that I asked. No one really listened to music then, I guessed.

I eventually decided to just turn the music off. I needed rest, and if I shut the light off they would know I was trying to sleep. When I did so, I collapsed onto the bed without even getting into pajamas or pulling the blankets over myself. I was simply too tired.

I heard footsteps make a path from the dining room to mine and guessed that Iris had come to check on me. She walked with a heavier step than the others and was much more gentle when she did. For that I didn't even raise my head. I knew she would simply look me over and then go back.

Or perhaps she wouldn't?

She stopped in the doorway like I thought she would, but she didn't just walk back. She stepped inside and walked to my side. She sat down on the edge of the bed and I looked up at her. She gave me a smile, brushed my hair away from my eyes, and whispered to me, "I know you were listening."

"So?" I asked. She murmured, "Most people would think that's a bad thing."

"From my experience, if you found out someone was trying to keep a secret from you, through listening in or not, you were obligated to beat them up for it. Be grateful," I told her. "And besides, what trouble would I get in? It's not like I'm doing anything wrong by hearing you talk when we're only separated by a door. And an open one at that."

"I suppose you're right," she murmured. "Are you sure you don't want to get changed?"

"I'll be alright."

"Okay, then. Why don't you get some sleep? By the time the sun rises, and you with it, we'll have some kind of solution."

"Alright," I agreed. She pulled the blankets over me and sighed before walking to the door. I watched her and wondered how close she was, and what it would be like when the babies came. I didn't have to wait long before I found out.


End file.
